It's Just Alcohol and Traditions
by Laura x Tennant
Summary: A nice Christmas special for you :D Hope you enjoy! Merry Christmas to all of you wonderful writers/readers/reviewers x
1. It's Just Alcohol and Traditions

**It's Just Alcohol and Traditions**

It's a little bit funny, how it all comes out in the open.

Him and her are never ones to pass up a festive tradition, whether said festive tradition is of Earth origin or Raxacoricofallapatorian or other.

And this particular festive tradition is one that entitles any and every drunken work colleague, drunken mum, or drunken, let's say, _companion, _to a kiss. On the lips. With a fellow drunkard. Or with a completely-sober-because-_Time-Lords-don't-get-drunk-Rose-Tyler _alien best mate. Whichever.

The evening starts out innocent and normal enough. Weeelll, as innocent and normal as one of his and her Christmas Eves can be. It all begins a day before, really, he supposes; when dear Rose Tyler suggests a _wonderful _idea (that's a sarcastic wonderful, in case you are not quite sure.) Namely, that they celebrate Christmas with her mother. On the Powell Estate. London. England. Earth. The one place in space and time that has a probability of 87% that it shall get invaded before the turkey's carved. So there's problemo uno. The second, significantly more terrifying aspect of Christmas at Jackie Tyler's domain, is, quite obviously, the fact that _Jackie Tyler _is involved.

True, true; Christmas last year was quite nice, in the end. You know, after the whole regeneration-killer-Christmas-tree-Sycorax-losing-a-hand-growing-back-a-hand-deposing-the-prime-minister thing. They made quite a nice little gathering, if he does think so himself. Even Mickey. It was nice. Domestic, but nice.

He quite likes the domestic side of things where Rose is concerned. Before her it was usually a big no-no. Even with her, before he changed, it was sort of reluctantly put up with (although, not half-so reluctant as he made out...)

Now, he just loves the way her smile lights up her face when he treats her to hot chocolate in front of the Eiffel Tower...

(weelll, hovering above it, TARDIS doors open as they sat side by side with their legs hanging over the edge, sipping from their mugs and bumping shoulders playfully until she almost fell out and he had to grab her around the waist quickly. And if his arms had stayed that way, wrapped around her, once she was safely not-falling-out, then that was just because he didn't want her to feel cold; the Paris winds were causing a draught. Honestly! Anyway, the whole affair was quite a remarkable sight; the stars and fireworks surrounding the famous landmark, lights of all sorts of colours playing over her face as she _beamed_. She loved it. Thought it was very impressive. So did he.)

...or holidays on _the best _beaches of the galaxy, all purple water and the softest sand ever (sand-that-isn't-really-sand-but-don't-tell-Rose-it's-actually-made-from-crab-like-creatures'-regurgitated-crumbs; what she doesn't know doesn't hurt her, or in this case, repulse her. And bless, she thought it was so lovely. Let's not ruin the illusion, eh?) and oh my, Rose Tyler's little white bikini that _definitely _needs to see some more sun. (Perhaps he'll take her to the Caribbean next.)

..._or, _ice-skating across the Third Millennium Lake of Moscow in the thirtieth century. Or shopping in New York. Or shopping in New New York. Or Indian take-away in front of the T.V whilst watching all the _EastEnders_ Christmas episodes between 1994 and 2015 in one big marathon session in the TARDIS library (and if, god forbid, _any _of his mortal enemies discover _that _little bit of trivia about him, he shall swiftly deny any enthusiastic involvement in the _big _question and debate of: who killed Archie Mitchell?)

Anyway, and look, he's gotten distracted again, the gist of it is, is that the Doctor and Rose quite often do things that could be termed domestic, especially around Christmastime. And he doesn't mind a bit. In fact, he thoroughly enjoys it. In between all the running and causing mischief, of course.

And so, because he is quite simply incapable of denying Rose Tyler and her fluttering eyelashes and gorgeous pouty lips _anything_ (_and _he quite likes Jackie's tea-making skills, so he doesn't really mind anyway, as fearful as he is of either a) a slap, or b) a snog, from the woman) he agrees with Rose's plan and sets the co-ordinates for Jackie's flat.

They get a bit distracted then, before he can even take them out of the vortex, when Rose challenges him to a game of Monopoly, which then (after the Doctor goes bankrupt and loses _spectacularly) _turns into a rematch in the form of Trivial Pursuit – Galactic Version -(which Rose fusses over the unfair advantage that he has in the _Galactic Version _aspect of the game, and yet still ends up winning)...

...which thus turns into a re-rematch in the form of Twister (which is so very, very, extremely distracting and tense and awkward – but nevertheless, distracting and tense and awkward in the very gorgeous sense, you know? – that, when pressed into a rather precarious position underneath Rose Tyler, he questions to himself, _why did I think this was a good game to play?_

To which he then realises, as she shifts a little and gives him a _very _nice view down her top, is a _very _stupid question to ask, because this is definitely, possibly, _completely _his new favourite game within the whole wide universe, all time, ever, to infinity and beyond. And blimey, he reckons he ought to get a medal for resisting the urge to simply flip her over and declare them both winners before proceeding to snog her senseless.

Alas, how the game really ends is Rose losing her balance, falling on top of him – which, _really, _isn't _that_ bad, if he's honest – sending them both crashing to the colourfully spotted mat. What's bad about it is that she shifts off of him exceedingly quickly, a light blush on her cheeks, and looks at her watch and says, _ooh look, we've been playing for hours now, _and he thinks, _haven't we just; some might say years, even _and she disappoints him further by announcing it's time they _stop, and go visit Mum._)

So that's the end of their impromptu games contest, and he lets her throw back the dematerialisation lever and off they go.

Now. You'd be forgiven for thinking that that, there, in the TARDIS, with all the games and alarmingly close positions of certain body parts pressed against certain other body parts in that intense game of Twister, is where the problems begin.

But you'd be wrong, actually. Because, you see – weelll, all that? That's just normal and innocent (well, as normal and innocent as the two of them can be) for them. They do things like that all the time. Weeelll, not _all _the time. Occasionally. The whole flirty-close-proximity thing isn't new with them, though. They have little to no concept of personal space, after all.

But moments like that – they're always just brushed under the carpet (proverbial carpet, of course, for who has _carpets? Yuck, no thank-you! _He's not going _that _domestic_)_ and forgotten about (weelll, not _forgotten _about, for he is a Time Lord, and thus he can remember everything he wants or needs to _for as long as he wants or needs to.)_ And things are always relatively normal and innocent afterwards. Except for those looks he sends her when he knows she isn't looking, of course. But anyway, there is no reason to believe that this particular incident will have any different effect on either of them than the other five-hundred-and-seven _moments _they've had over the years she's been travelling with him.

And it doesn't, not really.

It's the two bottles of wine that Rose shares with her mum that have a bit more of an effect on her inhibitions.

They know the lines, you see. The boundaries, so to speak. They're just friends; friends who happen to travel around together holding hands and unnecessarily hugging a lot, but still. _Friends. _Great friends – _best _friends. But _still. _Nothing more.

(And if he _almost_ kisses her on a daily basis, then that's just him being silly, and not at all representative of either of their feelings for the other.)

Therefore, neither of them ever speak of what is _so bloody obvious, _in Jackie herself's point of view, nor do either of them take the plunge and attempt to _show_ the other what they really, _actually_ want from the slightly odd, slightly (a lot) intense, mostly fantastic relationship between them.

But Rose – yeah, she knows the boundaries, but she's confident and cheeky when she's sober. And so you can imagine what a significant intake of alcohol will do to her self-control.

And so it comes to pass, that the night before Christmas Eve, Rose and the Doctor arrive in the living-room of her mum's flat. Jackie greets her daughter with open arms, and there's a big, sloppy kiss is for the Doctor (he _knew _this place would be dangerous) and seeing as _it's eleven o'clock at night, though, love – I was just going to bed! _they barely get a conversation out of her (unusual, that – she usually has a _lot _to say to them as soon as they arrive for a visit. And by a _lot, _we are talking rapid sentences of meaningless, gossipy drivel spilling out onto each other all at once at a speed to rival the Doctor's working-it-all-out speeches. Seriously. Who knew one could have so much to say about the woman at number eighty-two and that new reality show and Katie's latest husband? Blimey, how inanely not-interesting mother-in-laws can be -

Oh. Er. Not that she's his mother-in-law. Don't know _where _that came from. _Ahem_.)

So anyway, long and short of it is, Jackie bids goodnight quite soon after their arrival, and Rose and the Doctor flop down on the sofa and channel-flick, not really paying attention to what's on the telly and mostly just laughing together over shared memories.

And if he accidently sneaks his arm around her shoulders and tugs her closer, then that's still perfectly normal behaviour between two friends, so _there._

And if she retaliates by snuggling into his side and slightly nuzzling his chest as she falls asleep, then that – well, that's _completely innocent and not at all intended._

And _really_, it's honestly not his fault that he kisses her hair before he drifts off into his dreams himself. It's like, he doesn't know...some sort of reflex or something.

Still – falling asleep cuddled together on her mum's sofa? That's actually happened a few times before, so in no way is that a catalyst for something life-changing.

No, it's Christmas Eve and that wine that does it.

He's sure it is. It must be. It's all her and her drunkenness' fault.

_Weeelll, and perhaps that dress she wears._

...

**A/N: Tune in for part two soon :D Please review! Oh, and Happy Christmas everyone x**


	2. The Dress

_**The Dress**_

Jackie wakes up craving a nice full English breakfast. On her way to the kitchen, she looks in on her visitors in the living room; both of them sound asleep and wrapped up in each other on her sofa. She smiles to herself, wondering if the pair of them will ever realise how in love they are, before retreating to the kitchen, to busy herself cooking breakfast.

The Doctor wakes up craving a blonde in a Union Ja – wait, no, he just wakes up craving Rose in anything, really. Or nothing. Whichever. Then he shakes his head to clear away the remnants of that very nice dream he'd been dreaming, and looks down at the lump of Rose Tyler laying on top of him. There are so many worse ways to wake up, he thinks absently, stroking her hair. He vaguely registers the sound of Jackie humming to herself, and pots and pans clattering about in the kitchen, but is content to just lie here and watch his...friend, sleeping peacefully. Well, that's until the aroma of bacon hits the air, and then he's trying to jostle said friend awake.

"Rose," he murmurs softly, shaking her shoulder. And if he accidently strokes her collar bone with his thumb as he does so, then that's absolutely not on purpose. "Breakfast time, come on. Wakey, wakey."

"Mmph," she grunts, shifting off of him. She rubs her eyes wearily, and he thinks that he might adore her in the mornings. "What?" she asks, aware of him staring at her.

"I smell bacon," he grins. "Your mother is surprisingly good at breakfasts, I recall."

Rose rakes a hand through her messy hair, trying to smooth out the tangles. Then she smiles widely. "It's Christmas Eve!"

He chuckles at her child-like enthusiasm. "Yep! And I've literally just realised something," he realises suddenly. He lowers his voice in case her mother can hear, "We've come empty-handed. We haven't got Jackie a present."

She bites her lip. "Oh, yeah. Oops. Well, we'll just have to go shopping today, then, won't we?"

A look of horror flits across his face. "Shopping? On Christmas Eve? In London? Are you _mad_?"

"Well we can't go anywhere else, it'll have to do."

"We have a spaceship standing over there!" he argues, pointing at the TARDIS. "We could go anywhere – somewhere _less busy – _and be back in time!"

"Except we might not be 'back in time,' mightn't we? I know what you're like; we'll end up in Belarus in 1850 or something."

He rolls his eyes. "Of course we wouldn't. Technically, Belarus didn't exist as _Belarus _until it gained indepe- "

"Well, I'm not taking any chances," she interrupts. "Mum'll kill you if we abandon her on Christmas Eve and return eight months later."

The Doctor sighs, conceding to her point. "Fine. But how about _you _go shopping, and I'll just - "

" – woah, woah, woah," Rose stops him right there. "No way! You're not leaving this to me."

"Why not? She's your mother!" he argues, but he knows it's fruitless. She always wins their fights.

And if he kind of sort of likes that, he's clearly not thinking straight, and it doesn't mean a thing.

"So? She's your..." Rose pauses, considering that. "Well, she's your best friend's mother, and I'm entitled your help."

"Are you now."

"Yes," Rose nods.

The Doctor sighs again. "Right, okay. After breakfast, we'll go shopping for a gift for your mum. Happy?"

"Very," she grins, leaning over to peck his cheek. And then she's jumping up and rushing to the kitchen before he can process what she's done.

(And he most certainly does not sit there for nigh on three minutes, staring after her like some sort of lovesick teenager.)

It's sometime later, arms linked and chatting aimlessly about nothing in particular but something exceedingly funny to them, that they end up walking miles searching for the perfect present for her mum. In the end, they simply find her a couple of CDs and some bubble bath stuff, and have it all gift-wrapped as part of the shop's service.

They're standing at the till when he suggests it.

"Um, Rose..." he begins tentatively, his eyes on the floor.

"Yeah?" she replies, handing over a couple of crumpled up notes to the cashier.

"Can we split up for a bit?" he asks, tugging at his ear.

She turns her head, very, very slowly towards him, a lump in her throat. "What?" she whispers.

"Weeelll, thing is, I haven't got you a present, and - " he pauses when she sighs in relief, then continues with a confused look on his face, wondering what she had just thought he'd meant, "- and I don't want you to see what I get for you, so..." he trails off.

Rose takes her shopping bags from the woman, thanks her kindly, and ushers the Doctor out of the way of the other shoppers. "Okay," she smiles, walking towards the escalators.

He beams at her, gesturing widely with his arms as he speaks. "Brilliant! Right, you go upstairs then, and I'll have a nose around down here - " he cuts himself off as he glances around them and his eyes widen.

Right. This is – this is just –

Who – _who_, in their _actual right mind_ - decided it would be a good idea to have the gift section located right next to the women's _lingerie _section? The very lingerie section that the Doctor's arm is currently extended towards in a pointing fashion?

He abruptly drops his arm and jerks his thumb over his shoulder to the direction they've just been in, with the gift-sets and the like. A much, _much_ safer territory.

"I mean, over there, um, obviously," he stutters, and Rose has to hold in laughter.

"What, no new underwear for Christmas?" she pouts teasingly. "Shame, that. I was running out as well."

The Doctor distinctly cannot help it when his mouth falls open. "Uh..."

Rose can't help but giggle at that, and then she's turning around and riding the escalator away from him. "Have fun!" she calls out. "Nothing too racy," she adds as an afterthought, winking at him and delighting in the embarrassed flush that creeps across his face when he realises people are looking at them both curiously with amused smiles.

-x-

Turns out that Rose has bought _herself_ a present (and if he accidently wishes that it's for his benefit, really, so technically it's _his_ present, then that's just preposterous and certainly not rational thinking. What is becoming of him?) Anyway, she must have done so after they'd split up in that department store, because if he had seen her buying this, he reckons his hearts might not be having such an attack at the shock of it now. Because, to quite simply put it, he'd already be dead.

She looks...

Oh, she looks _divine._

"So?" she prompts, standing with her hands on her hips and giving him a quick twirl. "What do you think?"

He sniffs nonchalantly. "Nice," he answers, and shrugs a shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and turns to look at herself in the mirror. They're in her room in the flat. She'd just called him in to get his opinion on what she's going to wear this evening. At the risk of sounding vain, she personally thinks the silky black dress looks more than nice; that was why she bought it, after all. To shock him with.

"Nice," she repeats, sliding her hands across her bum to smooth the fabric out.

He gulps, but takes the opportunity to let his gaze lower while she's facing the other direction. "Mmhmm," he agrees.

That's when she catches the path his eyes are taking in the reflection of the mirror, and realises that he shares her view that it's slightly nicer than nice. She grins, and can't resist teasing him.

She spins around so quickly that he doesn't have time to raise his eyes again before she's looking at him. And now he's blushing. She thinks it's adorable. He thinks it's ridiculous; Time Lords don't blush.

"Right, er, I'll just be out there, yeah, right," he stutters, backing out of her bedroom.

And if Rose beams in satisfaction at the reaction she'd gotten out of him, it's absolutely because she's delighted. She can't deny it. She is secretly, utterly thrilled.

**A/N: Sorry this has been a long time coming. Hope you like it so far. Also, I'll quickly point out that somewhere, somewhen, I am pretty sure I've read the ' let's split up' confusion in someone else's fic. So credit to that person (I'm so sorry I can't remember who) who inspired that bit of the chapter - I hope you don't mind my borrowing it, it just fit so well with the Doctor and Rose in this instant, and I couldn't resist, despite the niggling voice in my mind saying it had been imagined by someone else :D x**


End file.
